


Kitten Tales

by ReneeMR



Series: Touch Not the Cat [3]
Category: Highlander
Genre: Cat, Cindy - Freeform, Highlander - Freeform, M/M, MacLeod - Freeform, Methos/MacLeod - Freeform, Sphynx, methos - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-04
Updated: 2003-03-04
Packaged: 2017-10-04 04:25:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReneeMR/pseuds/ReneeMR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to 'Touch Not the Cat,' and 'Cat Tales.' Could be read as a stand-alone.  The further adventures of Methos and Duncan and Cindy the Sphynx in New York.</p><p>See the real Cindy here<br/>http://f1.grp.yahoofs.com/v1/8HJhSk4OHWuXSV67nQdIv4WrRqzkKdpbueUS3RKHNm_xa5zSiUf729ifaeJj8SiOhdGCN8sX22nbcHZ8Lcjh/The%20Real%20Cindy.bmp</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kitten Tales

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Duncan MacLeod looked across the galley towards the loft's living area. He couldn't help smiling. "Methos, wine or beer with dinner?"

The ancient man dropped the shiny, crackly Mylar ball he'd been tossing to his cat, Cindy. The white and black van Sphynx turned her head up to her man. Green-gold cat eyes stared with concentration into his face. Methos looked at her. Then reached down and picked her up. She purred extravagant thanks.

Methos sniffed the air. It was redolent with the scent of onions and garlic. Something with pasta. Yes. MacLeod had caught on to his trick, he saw. Preparing the farfalle in boiling water liberally seasoned with fresh-ground white pepper and red pepper flakes. Good man. "Smells great."

"Shrimp," the Scot admitted.

"Mmmh." Methos set Cindy down on a stool. Went over to stand behind his lover and lean his chin on his shoulder. "Can't wait."

*Mieu*

"Neither can Cindy," the old immortal translated, with a laugh. He went over and got out a nice white wine. "This okay," he asked. At MacLeod's nod he uncorked and poured them each a glass. "Not bad," Methos said after his first sip. He gave MacLeod his glass, and started getting out plates and cutlery.

As they were serving themselves, Methos got Cindy's bowl and dished out her portion. He noticed his lover's frown. "What?"

"I was just wondering. Should she be eating people food now?"

Methos and Cindy looked at him with exactly the same stare. It was--uncanny.

"Why not? I'd imagine this is better for her than most commercial treats."

"Next you're going to tell me she'll be having cravings too." He smiled, then chuckled.

"Cravings, Mac?"

"Because she's pregnant. You know."

"Mac, Cindy's not pregnant."

"What? But, they…" There had been a lot of cat-fornication in the loft. Once Onyx, the stud, had gotten some visual aids. It had embarrassed the hell out of the Scot. Giving pointers on sex to a cat. But he had deemed it worthwhile if it got Cindy pregnant. And out if her constant heats.

Except, now, Methos was telling him… "It didn't work? He's sterile? What happened?!" He couldn't help feeling--being--upset. He felt, almost, well, deflated by the news. You are weird Duncan, he told himself.

"Hey, Mac, calm down, it happens. It's not unusual for virgin queens to not conceive. Have a false pregnancy. Reabsorb the litter." Methos put the cat's bowl on the floor. Picked up his plate. He padded into the living area. Looked over his shoulder to see if MacLeod was following.

The two men settled comfortably on the sofa. After Methos sent the Scot back for the wine, they leaned together, shoulder to shoulder. Eating in companionable silence.

Cindy, done with her meal already, came over to check theirs out. Methos shooed her away. She skittered across the hardwood floor and over to her cat tree. Up on the highest branch, she began her bath.

"You know an awful lot about cats, Methos. Don't you?"

The ancient man gave his lover a smug smile. "Um, I guess you could say that." Now he chuckled aloud. "I have been alive longer than cats have been domesticated."

MacLeod nodded. "Yeah. I remember seeing something about that."

"Yes. Watching one of the educational channels," Methos teased.

"Of course, `Iron Chef!'"

"Watch it, Mac. Or I'll drag you on one of those game shows and show you my real stuff."

"You know," MacLeod's tone dropped into the low baritone register. "You could show me your real stuff right now." He took their plates and set them aside. Reached for the clasp that held his long hair. Loosened it. He knew Methos wouldn't be able to resist.

The old man practically purred in anticipation. "Good food, good wine, good…"

"Shut up," the Highlander commanded. Then he shut his lover up in a most effective and satisfactory manner. For them both.  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"So, you've had cats most of your life?"

Methos picked his head up off the mattress and stared at MacLeod. He started to shake his head. Thought better of it. Rolled over carefully. Being sure to avoid the sticky spots.

"You have a one-track mind tonight." Methos ran his hands over the Scot's beautiful--and well-maintained body. He could touch him forever. Hey, he could touch him forever as long as they kept their heads. Something Methos was determined to ensure.

"You're trying to distract me," MacLeod countered. He caught the wandering hand and brought it to his lips.

"Is it working," the old man asked hopefully.

"No. Tell. Ungh!" MacLeod groaned as Cindy walked across his chest. Then settled in the crook of Methos' arm and pressed her nose against his side. She purred, and kneaded. Frantically, it appeared.

"She's never going to stop that, is she?"

"I doubt it," Methos confirmed with a sigh. Cindy had started her obsessive bedtime habit after her kidnapping. The vets Methos consulted all agreed that if she were going to get over things on her own, she would have already. The immortal had declined the offers of Valium for her.

MacLeod moved closer and put his hand on the cat. He smiled. `Suede hot-water bottle.' It was true. That's what Cindy felt like. He rubbed her belly and she curled up around his hand and clasped his wrist with her front paws. Still purring non-stop, she rubbed her chin on one finger. He had to admit Cindy was one classy cat.

"Okay, Methos, so how do you know she's not pregnant?" There was challenge in the Scot's voice. He grinned at his lover.

"Her nipples aren't pink."

"Huh? Say that again." MacLeod moved his hand and peered at Cindy's belly.

Methos almost laughed. "Her. Nipples. Aren't. Pink." He shook his head. "And no, I'm not kidding."

"Okay." What else could the Highlander say? "So,we're going to have to go through all that again. When?"

"As soon as she starts calling again."

The Scot groaned.

"Hey, it won't be so bad this time," Methos said and chuckled. "Onyx will know what he's doing."  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Well. I'll be damned." MacLeod peered at Cindy's belly. Exactly twenty-one days after Onyx bred her, Cindy's nipples were a bright, almost neon pink. He looked over at Methos. Lounging on the sofa.

"Told you," the ancient said with a smirking smile.

"You did. You did. So, what do we do now?"

"Nothing different. She's been getting her vitamin. Eating kitten kibble. I'll give her some canned food in the morning. Otherwise, we just wait. It`s usually sixty-five to sixty-eight days."

MacLeod nodded. Six more weeks. Maybe a little over. "Good." He went over to the calendar beside the refrigerator and noticed Methos had already marked the anticipated date. "Hey, Bastille Day."

"Yeah. Must be the French influence in the bloodline," the old man snickered.

"Well, I'm glad you're not teaching this summer. I don't know nothin' `bout birthin' no kittens," the Scot paraphrased.

Methos groaned. "God, Mac. That's awful."

"I know. But you love me anyway." The Scot leaned over the back of the couch and kissed the man he loved.  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"What about chicken breast? I can cook some rice in the broth. Throw in some peas and carrots. Think you'll like that?"

Methos was about to respond in the affirmative when the Scot went on.

"I'm going to pick up a nice beef heart tomorrow. Your doctor says organ meat is good for pregnant cats."

The ancient sighed. The Scot had been talking to the cat. He was cooking for the cat. Just for Cindy. Methos looked into the galley. The two were almost nose-to-nose across the island. He bet by the end of the week, MacLeod would have menus for the next month up on the refrigerator.

But he kept quiet. It was way too much fun watching his lover obsess over Cindy's pregnancy. The ancient went back to grading essays. Only to be in interrupted a moment later when MacLeod came over with the Sphynx.

Plopping down at his lover's feet, the Highlander settled Cindy on his chest. Put his hand on her belly. "Methos, when will we be able to feel them move? She's over half way."

Methos noted the concern in MacLeod's voice. He looked up. "Give it another week, at the end of the second trimester."

"And what if we still don't feel them?"

"We can have an ultrasound done."

"Really? They can do that?" The Scot sounded rather enthused by the idea. "Can we do it anyway?"

"Mac."

"Okay, okay." MacLeod grinned at Methos. "I was just wondering."  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"There's one."

"How can you tell?"

Methos took MacLeod's hand and moved it over Cindy's belly. "That hard knot. Feel it?"

"Yeah. Oh, yeah."

"Okay, here's another. But that's all I feel." Methos took Cindy and stood her on her feet. "I think there's probably just the two, Mac. You can barely tell she's pregnant."

For some reason, MacLeod felt a bit sad. "I thought there would be more. I mean, all the times they did it. You know."

The old man shrugged. "Her mother and aunts didn't have big litters."

The Highlander sighed. "Okay, two or three." He thought fora minute. "Girls or boys?"

"God, Mac, how would I know. Want to call in a pet psychic?" Methos snorted. And his lover had called him obsessive?  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"What are you making, Mac?" Methos looked over the collection of cans and bottles lined up on the counter. "Goat milk, Pedialyte, corn syrup… Ah, I see you've been surfing the cat websites." The old man sighed. He was surprised his lover hadn't stumbled across them before now.

"Yep. 'Glop.' Thought I'd get some ready and freeze it." He was pouring the high calorie, high protein supplement mixture into ice trays as he spoke.

Methos looked over at the other paraphernalia MacLeod had lined up. Scissors, alcohol prep pads, betadine, sterile pads. Even a small suture kit. "I see you raided my medical bag."

The Scot blushed. "Well, better to be prepared. Just in case."

"Fine. Fine." The old man wandered over to the cat tree. Cindy was giving herself a bath. It was plain to see that she was already producing milk. The anticipated birthing date was ten days away. So far everything appeared normal.

"Mac, we need to set up a nursery box for her. So she can get used to it."

"Done, Methos."

"Where?" He looked around for a cardboard box. "Where, Mac?"

"Here." The Scot went over to the sleeping alcove and came out pushing what looked like a square wooden bassinet.

"MacLeod?"

"What? I had it made, Methos. Let me show you." He demonstrated how the box was designed to let Cindy climb in and out without jumping. That it was deep enough to keep the kittens from rolling or crawling out. Was thermal-insulated. And had a re-vamped reptile warming rock installed along one side. "They can cuddle up to it if they get cold.

"And look, the lid can be detached and the legs lower for when the kittens start getting around."

"Yeah. Okay." Methos had to admit it was rather ingenious. He smiled at MacLeod. "You're really getting into this, Duncan. I'm impressed."

The Highlander looked at his lover. He expected to see the patented Methos-smirk. It wasn't there. Only a sincere smile of thanks. "Methos, I never thought I'd get so--involved. But, well, you were right. There's something special about Cindy. She's--cool."  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Methos and Cindy were in bed. The Highlander heard whispering. He smiled. Wondered what the old man was telling the cat now. MacLeod had laughed himself silly when he'd heard his lover telling her the story of `Cinder Ella.' In French, no less.

"It's a proper story for her," the ancient had explained to his lover. Just the thing for a Sphynx. Whose hairless ancestors had been Parisian alley cats.

As he got closer, though, MacLeod realized Methos wasn't talking to Cindy. He was talking to her belly--the unborn kittens.

Methos looked up at his lover's approach. "Come feel, Mac. I'm doing some bonding. Watch." He rubbed a particular spot on Cindy's side, then moved his hand. A second later a definite bump appeared. Methos touched it, and it moved again. The old man smiled up at the Scot.

"The other one's asleep."

The Highlander shook his head. "Methos, have you really have cats--forever? I mean, you know so much about them."

A wicked smile appeared on the ancient's face. "Truthfully? Yes. And no. Cats were always around. Where there're people, there're vermin. The cats just showed up. But humans didn't go out of the way to breed them for millennia. I didn't get into the fancy until the Siamese appeared in Europe." He smiled again.

"You know the breeding of companion animals was an acceptable hobby for women in the Victorian era. Woman, children--and young men who were delicate. Or studious." Methos laughed. "It was a great cover, Mac. I had the best of both worlds."

"You don't mean you…?"

"Yes, oh yes, Highlander. After sitting around all day watching animals fornicate, well, let's just say the evenings could get quite interesting."

MacLeod thought that over. Well. He could see his lover's point. He hadn't been particularly, hm, stimulated, by the cats. But there had been more than one occasion involving horses. He flushed suddenly at a particular memory. He had been shocked to see one of the Duchess's stallions mounting a gelding.

The grizzled stable master had only grinned at the him. Advised that the young gentleman not worry about the animals. He'd also invited the Scot to come and visit him in his private quarters that evening.

An invitation MacLeod had declined.

"Mac?"

"Hm?"

"You were a million miles away. I asked what you were thinking about. You have this goofy grin on your face."

"Do I?" Yeah. He did. "I was just thinking I want something, Methos. I want you inside me." He pulled his shirt off and tossed it out of the way. "Right now."

"I think that can be arranged." Methos shifted Cindy to the side of the bed and kicked the sheet off his body. He was nude, and flagrantly erect. Want to ride, Mac?"

The Highlander licked his lips in anticipation as he stripped off his jeans. He grabbed the lube out of the nightstand, squeezed some out. Handed the tube to his lover. "You do me, I'll do you. I thought we might both do some--posting."

"Ah. Excellent idea."

Cindy stood and looked at her men. Their changing smells alerted her to what was coming next. She snorted delicately and jumped down. Went over and settled on her fuzzy pillow in the window. Watched the full moon.  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Cindy jumped down from the highest branch of the cat tree. MacLeod winced. "Should she be doing that, Methos?"

"If it bothered her, she wouldn't do it, Mac." The ancient watched as his cat sauntered over to her food bowl. Ate a couple of mouthfuls of kibble.

"Do you think she's in labor yet?" It was the morning of July 14th, Bastille Day.

"Mac, we don't know if she's even going to have them today." Methos reminded the Scot gently.

"I know." He sighed. "But the suspense is getting to me, Methos. I've been doing the genetics. You know, don't you, that we can get just about any color and combination? Even pointed. They're both colorpoint carriers." He grinned at the ancient man. He couldn't help himself. The possibilities had captured his fancy.

"You told me, Mac." The old man smiled. His Highlander had gotten a complete pedigree on both Cindy and Onyx. "But you know not to count kittens before they're born. All I want is for them to be healthy."

"Agreed."

Cindy came over to her men and climbed into MacLeod's lap. Leaned up and butted her head against his chin. "I love you too, Cindy," he told her. Then patted her slightly bulging belly.

"Well, if you're not going to have the babies any time soon, I guess I'll run to the market."

"She'll be fine, Duncan. Go." Methos got up and walked his lover to the door. Closing it behind the Scot, he smiled. The chances were quite good that Cindy would have her kittens while they were asleep. But he hoped not. It would be nice to see his lover rewarded for his patience and devotion. Not to mention, for having had to put up with the banshee.  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"They're supposed to get restless just before they go into labor. Do you think she's restless?"

Methos didn't look up from his computer. "She's still sitting in the tree, isn't she? No, I don't think she's restless." Nor had Cindy shown any interest in the kittening box. But, Methos knew that cats were strange and unusual creatures. It was best not to try to second-guess them. He heard MacLeod's sigh at his words.

"It's only nine. There's three hours to go."

"What are the chances of anything happening now," the Highlander asked mournfully.

Methos chose not to answer. He smiled to himself as he continued working on his journal. Sending Joe an update for the Highlander's Chronicle. He knew the Watcher was getting a kick out of the whole Cindy situation.

The old man wrapped things up and went over to join his lover and Cindy on the couch. He leaned in to kiss MacLeod. Then ran his hands over his chest. Maybe he could take his mind off of Cindy for a while? He went to move the cat.

"Um, Mac? How long has she been doing that?"

"What?"

"Tensing up."

"I don't know. A while. Why?"

"Because she's in labor, Mac. Active labor." Methos started to lift the cat off MacLeod's lap. "Ah, make that delivering." He set Cindy back down. "Don't move, don't do anything, Mac. Just hold on."

"Methos!" The Highlander glanced at his lover. Then looked down when the cat moved and made a strained noise. "Cindy! Methos! Quick!"

"Here, Mac. It's okay." The old man had come back with the kittening box and a towel. He scooped the cat up and put her, towel and all, into the box. A moment later he turned to MacLeod. "Well, don't you want to watch?" He smiled and beckoned his lover over. "Cindy doesn't mind."  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"See, she made it, Mac. With plenty of time to spare." Methos looked at the Scot. My poor love, he thought. He looks exhausted.

"Yeah. Bastille Day babies." The Highlander grinned happily as he watched the two newborns nursing. Two fat, healthy, absolutely naked little girls. One a classically marked tortoiseshell--the red, black and white clearly defined. The other a dilute tortie, her colors appearing in a marble pattern, with only a tiny bit of white on her chin.

Cindy purred as her men admired her babies. She closed her eyes and kneaded air when Methos reached in to pet her. And the kittens.

"So, what are you going to name them, Mac," Methos asked softly.

"Me, Methos? I, uh, well…"

The ancient snickered. "Come on, I know you picked out names."

"But Cindy's your cat."

"Mac, just name them, already," Methos said with a snort and a chuckle. "Please?"

"Okay, okay." The Highlander grinned. "You don't have to twist my arm." He gave his lover a quick kiss. Then reached into the box. He touched the firstborn kitten`s head. The vibrantly marked tortie. "Bijou."

"Bijou," Methos repeated. He nodded. "A bauble. Something whose only purpose is to look pretty and give pleasure. A treasure. I like that." It was the perfect name for the kitten they would keep.

"And Belle. Because, well, she is."

"Good names, Mac. Belle and Bijou." Methos gave Cindy another caress, then lowered the lid on her box.

"Come on, bed, Mac. I know you haven't been sleeping. But everything is fine. Cindy and the kittens are fine."

Methos shook his head. God, what would the Scot be like with children, he wondered. Well, that was something they could consider in the future. Far in the future.

Right now they were still on their honeymoon. As far as the ancient was concerned. Maybe in a couple hundred years they'd be ready for a family.

Maybe…

 

End


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